


Going Home

by beforeyouspeak



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21894655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beforeyouspeak/pseuds/beforeyouspeak
Summary: Ten years after her illness and ill conceived marriage, Myka is forced into a vacation by the regents. She goes to the only logical place she can thing of... home.
Relationships: Myka Bering/Helena "H. G." Wells
Comments: 7
Kudos: 80





	Going Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadowdianne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/gifts).



> Bering and Wells will always hold a special place in my heart. It was one of the first fandoms where I felt the sparks of magic. This is a sentimental walk down memory lane (for both reader and characters).I have taken the general liberties with HG. She claims the title of both inventor and writer, because lets face it she is that brilliant.  
> This fic was written for the 2019 Cissamione Christmas exchange (ironic, I know) for ShadowDianne.

Myka took a deep breath before standing from the uncomfortable chair in airport terminal. It was most often early in the mornings that she was reminded that she was not the young mid-2o’s secret service agent she once was. Injuries and the toll of the cancer she defeated made her body ache. Strictly speaking, she wasn’t displeased with aging. She knew it was an honor to have the ability to do so. In her career in the Warehouse, she had seen far too many lives ended early, including nearly her own. She couldn’t really blame the Warehouse for the cancer (so far as she knew), but she had battled it with the rag-tag family she had built there.

Myka was well aware of how close she had come to losing her life in those days and she felt the waves in the wake of that experience more acutely than the daily risk of chasing artifacts. Initially it had driven her into Pete’s arms. He has been her absolute rock when she needed him, but only six months into their marriage it was clear that it had been a mistake. She loved him. They loved each other, but they were not in love. Pete was so understanding of her inability to let go of the woman she refused to speak of. Helena was ever present, even in her great absence of the last decade.

After the short lived marriage, Myka re-dedicated herself to her work and to being practical above all else. She worked very hard to forget (and forgive) the raven haired woman for the choices she made. The choices that never prioritized Myka, in spite of the very real love that echoed between them. She never felt the love for Helena diminish. She lived with the dull ache of it in her chest. It was her constant companion. While she was fairly certain Helena was still alive, Myka lived like a widow for a woman she never really had. While it wasn’t the happiest life, she found it to be the most authentic. There were moments of joy and connection with those she worked with, but she never sought romance.

She rarely took time for herself, even working holidays. At least until last week when the Regents had required her to take a full month off. She hadn’t really blamed them. In fact, she had been wondering when they would get around to forcing her. Myka took the edict with a surprising amount of grace. She handed over her farnsworth and packed her bags for the month she was required to be away. Purchasing a first class ticket to London was something she had contemplated so frequently in the last few years, that it was surreal to finally book it.

Myka waited until the end of the boarding line. She wasn’t in any particular hurry, though there was no reason to linger in the terminal. When she stepped on board, the smiling flight attendant greeted her warmly and escorted her to her seat, though the term seemed an understatement for the little nook waiting for her. She stowed the small backpack she carried with essentials and sat in the reasonably comfortable seat with its private screen and ability to lay reasonably flat. As she settled in the flight attendant appeared with a glass of champagne, which Myka took and sipped. She buckled her seatbelt and switched her phone into airplane mode before scrolling mindlessly through the movies and tv shows. She selected something mindless to pass the take off, which she never particularly enjoyed.

Once they reached a steady altitude, Myka pulled out the small travel guide she was lucky enough to find in the airport book store. While it was true that she had toyed with the idea of a vacation to London for several years, she hadn’t ever gone so far as to plan what she might like to do once she got there. She felt quite lucky to have been able to rent a small flat near Covent Garden for the entire month. According to the shiny book in her lap, she would be near to many of the most famous sites that suited her interests best. Bending again, she retrieved a small note book and began making a list in order of the things she needed to visit.

After a brief, but surprisingly good meal, Myka settled down into the little cocoon the first class seat provided. With the earplugs and sleep mask in place, she drifted to sleep quickly in spite of the unusual surroundings. She hadn’t slept well, not deeply in years. The chemo had severely upset her sleep patterns from which she never truly readjusted. And then there were the dreams. They were not always nightmares exactly, though she had her fair share of Helena dying for her in the Warehouse dreams. More often than not, in the dreamscape she was hunting for Helena but could never quite find her. She woke most mornings with an ache in her chest, one that she had come to expect.

The flight attendant gently shook her shoulder to wake her after a dreamless few hours. Myka woke feeling more peaceful than she had in years. She knew it had to do with feeling like she was going home. She was grateful that she had no need to explain that particular sentiment to anyone. How would you rationally explain that flying to a city you had never actually lived in would feel like a home coming. Like somehow a part of you had been left in a city only visited briefly. That there was an intangible connection to a person who lived there once that was enough to call you home. But Myka was no longer the type of person who would lie to herself, even if she held her tongue around others.

She needed to walk where Helena had once strode. She needed to see the London that the dark haired woman had once told her about. She needed to deepen the connection she had been clinging to alone for years. Not that the change of pace or the living a different life for a few weeks would hurt her either. She knew that she hadn’t entirely thought her trip through, but the chances to explore a famous and old city for a few weeks would be enough to amuse her, allow her to clear her mind, and relax. She felt like a hopeless romantic, but when she thought of all the things she could truly do for herself it was the idea that called to her the most.

Myka cradled a warm cup of coffee in her hands and mostly poked at the breakfast served to her. She was too excited and nervous to be hungry. She was anxious to get off the plane and through security as a civilian. She hadn’t brought a single weapon with her, which was a relief. She was going to pass her time in peace. Not that she was entirely sure what that was like, but she was willing to learn. She stared out the window as the land came into view under the clouds. The lush green against the pale blue of the sky was astoundingly pretty, but Myka was ready to have her feet back on solid ground.

The descent into Heathrow was easy enough. Along with the rest of the first class passengers, Myka was ushered off the plane and towards customs. She fell into line and attempted to not scan the crowd the way her training demanded. The line was brief enough and Myka appreciated the ease of the automated entry. Within a few minutes, she had gathered her rolling bag and was looking for a black cab. She gazed out the window as modern London passed her by. The driver was blissfully quiet, which allowed Myka to take in the differences from her normal life. London was different from New York or San Francisco. As soon as they were off the industrial lined highway, the low old styled buildings closed in around them. The mix of modern and and Victorian buildings lined the streets. The cab wove down a quiet street just a couple of blocks away from Covent Garden. It stopped in front of a row of quiet looking flats.

Myka gathered her bags and made her way inside. She desperately wanted a shower before going out and seeing the city. The inside was comfortable enough to suit her needs. She would need to stock the kitchen in order to be able to cook, but that would be easy enough. Myka unpacked her bags efficiently and got into the shower. The warm water felt good against her skin after the 15 hours of traveling. As she did every morning, she thought gratefully of the life she was able to lead. She thanked her lucky stars for the recovery of her health and for the fact that those dark days were behind her. While she didn’t have everything in life that she might have once dreamed of, she had many things to be grateful for. Once out and dressed, the hunger she didn’t feel on the plane hit her full force.

Grabbing her jacked and bag, she was out the door on the hunt for a cafe. She walked towards St. Paul’s church. She found a warm looking cafe that was moderately busy. As she was being seated, Myka appreciated glow of the lights and fashionable chalk board menus that lined the walls. Menu in hand she picked a full fry up and a coffee delighting in the sheer British-ness of her choice. While waiting on her food, she dug into her bag for her phone and guidebook.

Her fingers brushed her beloved copy of The Time Machine. Years ago, in what felt like a different life, Helena had written notes and commentary in the book for her. Myka had treasured it as though it was a love letter. It was the nearest thing she would ever get to one. She remembered the mischievous look in Helena’s eyes as she snatched the book off Myka’s nightstand promising an “author’s revision.” Since Helena had left for good, the book was always with her. A memory of happy days and the soul deep connection she only experienced with one person.

For the moment, she left the book in her bag. She wanted to find a grocery to stock her kitchen and to pick out at least one sight to see before she settled in for the evening. There was a Tesco a reasonable distance away, which would be perfect for getting essentials. And there would be enough time before dark for her to wander around Covent Garden before the Evensong concert at St. Pauls church. She tucked away her things to dig in to the food properly. It was hot and fresh. In combination with being clean, Myka felt better physically and emotionally than she had in a long time. London felt as magical as she thought it might, even though there was a niggling feeling in the back of her brain. It was almost as though she was being watched, but she knew how very silly it was. So she shoved the feeling away and focused on the warmth of the room and perfect plate of food in front of her.

The cool grey walk to the grocery store would have been mundane to anyone else, but Myka had done enough research to know that even in the 19th century Covent Garden had hosted many shops. The probability that Myka was walking on ground her love had once strode on was quite high. She pulled her coat around her seeking warmth in that knowledge and wishing away the loneliness that had been her companion for so long. She wiped a tear from her cheek and pressed on, focusing on the things she needed from the store.

* * *

Myka was breathless after carrying her bags laden with supplies. She bought more than she had planned on. But on top of the essentials, there were so many new things to try that she just couldn’t resist. She relished in organizing the refrigerator and shelves. She promised herself an early evening in after the church service. While she wasn’t exactly religious, her relationship to the sacred and mystical had changed since she joined the Warehouse and again after being ill. A traditional service of sung prayer from the common prayer book with its roots in the 16th and 19th centuries would both open her eyes and soothe her soul.

She picked out a pair of grey slacks and jacket with a pink blouse. Putting them on made her feel a bit like she was going to work, but she knew herself well enough to know that she would be more comfortable in her typical clothing instead of the comfortable travel clothing she had been sporting. Before leaving, she looked around the flat. It was so odd being in a space that was her’s, but also not entirely. It was almost as though someone had been there in the time she was out. The thought alone was proof that the regents were right to send her away for a month. She was seeing intrigue and possibly danger where there wasn’t any.

The small 17th century church was intimate in comparison with the famous cathedrals. Myka was greeted warmly by an usher, who helped her find a seat close to the front. The kind woman joined her and in hushed tones told her the history of the church and the choir set to perform that evening. There were obviously some serious advantages to being so close to the West End and the Royal Opera house. As the first hymn began, Myka closed her eyes and allowed herself to be transported entirely. The organ alone was majestic, but when combined with the voices it was one of the prettiest things she had ever heard. She let the music fill her and touch places that had been dead for some time. For the duration of the service, she let herself feel fully. It was powerful and exhausting.

She walked quietly back to the flat, thinking only of the dark eyes and cheeky smile that captured her heart so long ago. She felt eyes on her back, but when she glanced subtly over her shoulder the street behind her was empty. When she turned back to look at the door to her temporary home, a familiar figure sat on the stoop.

“Helena,”she whispered so quietly she doubted very much the other woman could hear her. She watched the woman rise slowly with more self doubt in her body language than Myka had seen, perhaps ever.

“Hello, Myka,” HG Wells said in her smooth British accent.

Myka was both utterly shocked and unsurprised at her the woman’s presence. She had imagined seeing her again a million times. She had spent sleepless nights imagining what she would say to Helena. But now on this unfamiliar street in a city she barely knew, Myka couldn’t seem to make a single syllable come out of her mouth.

“I...” Helena stumbled over her words for a moment. “I had thought about sitting with you at St. Paul’s, but I rather worried that it might interrupt the service. And it was such a lovely service. It had been a long time since I saw an Evensong.”

“Do you want to come in,” Myka interrupted. She had hoped that she might find a smoother way to enter the conversation, but when had she ever been able to keep her cool around Helena?

“Yes. I would. Very much, in fact.”

Myka nodded, but said nothing further. She dug the keys out of the pocket to her coat and with slightly shaking fingers slid the key into the lock. She opened the door and stepped in. Helena passed quietly looking around the space with interest. There was something about her manner that made something click in Myka’s head.

“You were here earlier,” she said.

“I knew you would know,” Helena said affectionately while removing her coat.

Myka took the cloth from her hands and valiantly resisted the urge to lift it to her face an inhale. She hung it in the closet by the door along with her own jacket. It bought her a few moments to think and try to calm her breathing.

“I was going to make dinner in tonight if if that’s alright. I imagine the jet lag will kick in,” Myka said as she emerged.

“I would never turn down your cooking. Would you like me to make a cup of tea before you begin?”

Myka struggled to reign in her emotions at the memories that came with the offer. She half wanted to throw Helena out. It turned out that it might be easier to live as Helena’s widow than it was to face down their complex and fraught history. The pain must have shown on her face. A shadow crossed Helena’s features and Myka thought the raven haired woman was about to bolt.

“That would be very nice, if you don’t mind,” Myka said finding her courage again.

“It would be my pleasure,” Helena said smiling softly and looking more comfortable.

“The tea is just in the cabinet there,” she said gesturing. “You’ll find your favorite, unless it has changed.”

Myka blushed as the words came out of her mouth, but Helena didn’t react aside from stepping into the kitchen. The painfully domestic scene was almost more than she could take.

“How did you find me,” Myka asked. It wasn’t quite the question she really wanted to ask, but it was a place to start.

“Ironically as it turns out, I am quite gifted with computers. I have granted myself access to her majesty’s customs records. I set up a little piece of code that would alert me if you entered the country. When I built it, I was convinced it would never be used.”

“But I travel all over the world,” Myka shot back unwilling to let any untruthfulness linger between them.

“But not often on your personal passport with your real identity. I didn’t set up an alert for any but your true name. I’d hoped if you used it, that it would mean that you had come for a reason.” Helena blushed prettily.

Myka didn’t answer the question that hovered in spite of not actually being asked. She instead stared at Helena’s back as she put the kettle on the stove. It was a familiar scene Myka never thought she would see again. It was in its own way heart breaking. A fleeting glimpse of something she had long been denied.

“I am on vacation for the first time in,” Myka played absently with her hair, “years. There was no reason not to use my own identity.”

“I had wondered,” Helena said still busying herself with mugs. “Not a single tesla nor farnsworth in sight.”

“Nor a grappler,” Myka said with a smirk.

Helena glanced over her shoulder at the comment and looked lost again. As the kettle whistled, she poured the mugs and brought them to the small table.

“Thank you,” Myka said accepting the cup and cradling it. She had never quite managed to make tea like Helena and she had missed it. She leaned close over it and inhaled deeply, allowing all of the best memories to wash over her. “Why were you looking for me?”

“I...” Helena trailed off and stared resolutely at her tea.

“I need you to tell me the truth,” Myka said quietly waiting for dark eyes to meet her own. “I have been through too much and we have suffered too much for anything less.”

“Yes, of course,” Helena said sitting up straighter. “I confess, I am not sure I thought I would ever have the pleasure of seeing you again. It sounds ridiculous, but I have been carrying around a letter explaining everything. I almost left it here this afternoon, but I realized when I smelled your perfume that it wouldn’t be enough. That you most assuredly deserved better and that I was capable do doing much better.”

“And so you stalked me to church?” Myka’s question didn’t carry any bite in spite of the words.

Helena laughed. “I confess it was not my most clever plan. When I saw you in person, I couldn’t possibly resist the opportunity to hear your voice again.”

“It is decidedly good to see you again.” Myka withheld none of the affection she felt for the woman in front of her.

“I feel as though I have a great deal to apologize for.” Helena visibly wilted at the admission.

Myka tilted her head considering the woman in front of her. She knew if they were to ever move forward (together or separately) there were words that they needed to speak to one another. But she doubted that they would manage that level of vulnerability over a very awkward cup of tea.

“I think there is a great deal we need to discuss, Helena. But lets do it over dinner, ok? We have a complicated history and so many years have passed. There is no reason to do it on an empty stomach,” she proposed. “We have time.”

Helena breathed out looking relieved. “That was the one thing I never felt like we had.”

“That’s because we never had it. But we do now. And I have no intention of allowing us to squander it. I am going to just make a quick stir fry. Any new food preferences I should be aware of?”

“None. Do you need any help?” Helena looked a little unsure of what to do with herself.

“I should be alright. It is simple enough. Feel free to look around. I haven’t quite settled in, but you are welcome to explore.”

Helena blushed again, which made it quite clear to Myka that she already had. She shook her head and smiled turning back to the kitchen. It was so like Helena.

Myka got to cooking as efficiently as she could. She was getting tired, but she couldn’t imagine putting her head on a pillow before having at least a good portion of the conversation she hinted at. She heard Helena moving behind her. It was soothing just knowing she was there, instead of the ghost of her presence.

“I can’t believe you kept this,” Helena said reverently.

Myka glanced to see her favorite book in the hands of the woman whose ideas it was filled with. “Of course I did. Its my favorite and you wrote in it for me.”

“That was a beautiful afternoon. Did I ever tell you that I nearly abandoned my Warehouse 2 plans that day? The look in your eyes. I knew that I could have everything I wanted. I’ve regretted not making that choice everyday.”

“You more than made up for it,” Myka said firmly. “The Warehouse moves us all in ways we can’t entirely explain. You were the hero... my hero at the end of the day.”

“Only after you had been mine. You never stopped choosing me, even when I couldn’t or wouldn’t choose myself,” Helena said still leafing through the familiar book.

Myka paused her chopping of vegetables and regarded the beautiful and self depreciating woman in front of her. Helena was so different and so much as she always had been.

“There is a bottle of wine in the refrigerator, would you mind opening it?”

“Of course, darling,” Helena answered taking the redirection seamlessly. She opened the drawers in the kitchen until she found the cork screw and went about opening it. Similarly she found the wine glasses and poured them each a generous portion. She carried it over and gently touched Myka’s back so she knew she was there.

“Thank you, Helena,” she whispered. “You’ve always been overly hard on yourself. You were long ago forgiven for Warehouse 2.”

“I know. It still weighs on me. Somehow, its still easier to talk about. Apologizing for poor actions seems so much more simple than apologizing for a lack of action.” Helena didn’t move away or shy away this time. “I’m sorry for running away from my truth after telling you not to run from your’s.”

“You wanted to try out a normal life. It was something you’d never had before. I could never have begrudged you that,” Myka said. And she meant it. What Helena had lived through was painful beyond description. It was natural that she wanted something stable and simple. But that didn’t mean that Myka hadn’t needed her and longed for her presence.

“You’ve always been too generous, my dear Myka,” Helena said. “I missed some rather important things I can’t help but think I shouldn’t have.”

Myka stopped moving the knife she was using, knowing the tears were going to start flowing. She had largely dealt with the trauma of cancer, but it was so very easy to connect with pain and isolation she felt at the time.

“Oh Myka, I was so very foolish. What happened in those years that makes you cry so easily.” Helena moved closer, but still didn’t touch her.

Myka with tears streaming down her face, turned to face her fully. Helena paused at her distress only for a moment, before drawing her securely into her arms. Myka clung to her as she wished she could so many lonely nights.

“I had cancer,” she mumbled against Helena’s shoulder. “I very nearly died in a way I had never considered I might.”

Helena backed up away enough to be able to cup her cheek. “I am so very glad you did not. I could not survive in the world knowing you were no longer in it. I should have been at your side. I am sorry I wasn’t. If I had known...”

“You would have had to make an impossible decision that I didn’t want you to. I knew I might die and I wanted to offer you the life the Warehouse never allowed you to have.” Myka watched a shadow of self doubt cross the beautiful pale face in front of her. “But I wished you were with me every day. And then I was so sick I didn’t want to send for you. I didn’t want you to be in love with someone who was going to die.”

Helena was quiet, but her eyes were warm and liquid. Myka felt them to her very soul. “I would have not minded,” she finally said. “I don’t think I would be able to resist knowing that you needed and wanted me under any circumstance.”

Myka let those words fill her. The affirmation of how she had felt for so long laid out plainly.

“I married Pete.”

“You what?”

The crisp British accent seemed to highlight the shock Helena was clearly feeling.

Myka chuckled self-deprecatingly and looked to the ceiling trying to find the right words to explain that period in her life.

“He cared for me in the darkest days. He showed me the deepest kind of empathy and care. We both mistook the intensity of that experience for romantic love. It lasted less than a year. We’ve remained friends, though we are rarely paired at work any more. He couldn’t and didn’t want to compete with a ghost. He knew. He always knew that I couldn’t let go of the memories of you. Of the almost. Of the looks and connection. As he realized I wasn’t really meant to be with him, I think he realized that he wasn’t meant to be with me either.”

Myka tucked her head into the curve of Helena’s neck and indulged in scent she denied herself earlier.

“Were there others,” Helena knew she had no right to ask, but she couldn’t help herself. To soften the request, she light stroked Myka’s back.

“Helena Wells,” Myka feigned offense. “I cannot believe you would ask me such a thing. But no, I learned my lesson well. I would rather live with bittersweet memories than pretend to be in love with someone else.”

Helena squeezed her tighter and kissed the curls on the side of her head affectionately. “I too have been alone for some time. After a considerable amount of time in therapy, I realized that there was little point in trying to conform to relationships that didn’t fit me. While Claudia was able to provide me with a regent capable of providing therapy, there are not many people on Earth who could so whole-heartedly accept me even if I could tell them the full extent of who I am. I had run from my truth, as I told you. I was too cowardly to seek you out.”

“I have grown tremendously from the waiting,” Myka said. “And I learned to mediate.”

Helena laughed melodiously, which made Myka smile. “I took up yoga.”

“What do you want,” Myka asked. It was abrupt and less elegant than she would have liked, but her patience was running thin.

“I want time. The time we were denied. I won’t claim to have all the answers that will suddenly make things easy for us. But I desperately want the chance to try to find some of them,” Helena said. “In the near term, I suppose I would take dinner.”

Myka smiled and squeezed the slender woman before letting go. “Dinner then.”

“Won’t you let me help?”

Myka looked at her skeptically causing Helena to laugh beautifully.

“I have practiced with modern cooking implements extensively,” Helena defended jovially.

The secret service agent hummed in thought. “I do have something you can help with. If you could grab the bottle of wine and just... sit right there. Be your distracting self and that will be sufficient.”

With a over dramatic sigh, Helena settled into the chair and slowly looked Myka up and down. Myka felt her face heat up at the attention. She had to give it to the woman, she really was gifted at being distracting. Now wanting to waste any more of time that had miraculously been gifted to them, she did her very best to focus on cooking as efficiently as possible. With every move, she could feel Helena’s eyes on her. It was unnerving in its appeal and steadfastness. It was everything that she had longed for day after day.

Placing a warm meal in front of Helena at a small table in a private kitchen made Myka wonder if she was still sleeping on the plane. Her subconscious had played with her sense of reality for years with scenes just like this playing on the back of her eye lids when she did manage to sleep.

“Are you alright, darling,” Helena asked quietly.

“I think so. Its just...” Myka paused. “Are you real? This seems like something more likely to happen in a dream if I am honest.”

Helena reached out and intertwined their fingers while looking at Myka as though she hung the moon. “This is the most real I have felt in years. I am so very glad to be here with you.”

Myka nodded and attempted to gather her emotions again. She didn’t however reclaim her hand. Instead she opted to eat slightly awkwardly with her left hand, but the connection felt too good to willingly break.

“I feel rather like a teenager in one of those movies from the 80s,” Helena finally said.

Myka found it so unnatural, yet charming for Helena to be versed in pop culture. “Do you spend your free time watching movies these days?”

“I went through a phase where I consumed everything I could find. I desperately wanted to be on the same level with everyone else. But as I have adjusted, I have drifted back into literature. I’ve even picked up writing a bit. As you know, I used to put pen quite literally to paper for my ideas. So it is rather different for me to use a Macbook.”

“Are you thinking of looking for a publishing deal?”

“I don’t think so. I fear it would be far to easy for someone to use an algorithm to discover the similarities in my writing more than 100 years apart. Every time I consider it, I remember how quickly JK Rowling was sussed out writing under a man’s name. I don’t want to even begin to explain. The writing is really for me. Its such a wonderful way to spend time and ask my brain to work,” Helena explained.

“That’s reasonable,” Myka said but it was clear that there was more that she wanted to say.

Helena smiled luminously. “I will let you read it.”

“Really,” Myka squealed.

“Oh yes, I cannot imagine trying to stop you,” the inventor said looking rather pleased with herself. “And thank you for dinner. This is lovely.”

“It was my pleasure. Could I lure you lighting a fire in the fireplace and having another bottle of wine with me?”

“Always relying on the Victorian lady for the old fashioned appliances,” Helena scoffed ironically.

“Just sticking with what you are good at.”

“Myka Bering,” Helena said sounding almost offended. “You do know what they used to do with young ladies with smart mouths in my day.”

“Not specifically, but I could be pretty adventurous,” she said over her shoulder while opening another bottle of wine.

A fleeting look of shock crossed Helena’s face before it was replaced with a grin just this side of leering. “Is that so? I for one would like very much to verify that statement.”

Myka hummed sweetly, but did not respond. She opted for getting two clean wine glasses and the opened bottle instead. She walked slowly towards her wayward inventor drinking in her presence. Helena looked so good. Her dark hair was streaked lightly with grey. It made her look all the more dashing.

She set the glasses down on the table and poured the wine. She held a glass out to Helena. “Thank you, darling,” Helena said in the delectable accent that made Myka’s knees weak. She patted the seat next to her and watched gratefully as Myka sunk into it. They were close enough for her to feel the warmth of the agent’s body, but without the pleasure of them actually touching.

The wine was delicious and the fire was warm. Myka found herself sinking into the pleasure of it. The evening still held such promise. The heat of Helena’s stare had awakened parts of her that she had long since thought were dead. And it was impossible (as it had always been) to be so close to her and not want more. But for the first time in their acquaintance, there was no reason not to let things naturally escalate.

“Helena,” Myka broke the luxuriating silence.

“Myka,” the inventor breathed out with reverence. She lifted a hand as if to cup her face, but stopped uncertainly hand hanging in midair. Myka found herself placing her cheek in the woman’s hand, meeting her half way. Just the light brush of fingertips against her face was so comforting and affirming that Myka leaned into it. She wasn’t entirely unpleased when it resulted in the lips she’d dreamed about for years hovering before her. She only had to lean forward slightly to join their lips.

Unable to think of doing anything else, she kissed Helena. It began gently and full of exploration. After only a moment, Helena was taking both of their wine glasses and placing them on the table out of danger’s way. Which much to Myka’s delight resulted in Helena taking a more hands on approach. She reconnected their lips exploring connection and chemistry. Myka now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that being the complete center of Helena’s universe would undoubtably be addicting. She knew full well if they continued on the path that they were currently on, she would hand over to Helena’s control nothing less than her entire being. While Myka craved that, she knew that it was hardly something she could lay at Helena’s feet without explanation. When they next broke to take a deep breath, she let her head fall until her forehead rested on Helena’s shoulder.

A possessive cool hand rested at the nape of her neck holding her close and keeping the heat between them simmering. “I am not sure that I can do this once and go back to life as it was,” Myka said without lifting her head. “But I am also not sure that I can resist it, even if it will destroy me in the end.”

“Oh Myka,” Helena said sadly holding the woman in her arms closer. “I would not have come found you if I didn’t have more to offer than I did in the past.” Helena gently grasped both sides of her face to raise her eyes until they could see one another.

“I am your’s entirely. I have been for some time. I want you so thoroughly,” the inventor continued holding intense eye contact as only she could. Myka lunged for Helena’s lips and claimed them. She could have dwelled in the what-ifs or drug up the past, but it seemed that maybe, just maybe they did finally have the time they longed for. Helena gamely let her lead the kiss for lingering moments.

“Take me to bed, Myka,” Helena said in a rough accent clearly enhanced by living in her home town again. “Oh, it would most certainly be my pleasure,” Myka said already rising from the couch and moving towards the bedroom. Helena kept their hands linked crawling on to the bed and bringing Myka with her. She looked over her shoulder at her soon to be lover. The bouncing curls were lightly peppered with grey in the most attractive way. And the fire in her glance was burning Helena to her very core. She turned and lay on her back, pulling Myka’s warm body over her.

“Hmm,” Myka hummed as she settled their bodies together wiggling her hips. “You know, it’s funny. I had always imagined that you would be a top.”

“Oh, my darling Myka. I most certainly am. But at this moment, you are exactly where I want you.”

Myka moaned and pushed their bodies closer together. She shivered as Helena’s hands started a slow and sensual roaming across her back. Myka kissed and nipped the pale neck savoring the flavor of Helena’s warm skin. Being so close to her was intoxicating and the way she was arching into the touch was delicious.

“Want to mark me, do you?” Helena husked into her ear causing her skin to break out in goose bumps.

Myka clamped her lips harder on the skin in lieu of a response. Helena’s hips jerked up hard and Myka happily ground her hips down. Kissing her way up to Helena’s ear, she whispered,“You can hardly blame me for wanting to consume you when you are so delightfully stretched out beneath me. And when I have imagined touching you and being inside of you so many times. I can already tell that you are going to be drenched.”

“Fuck, Myka. I am so very close to climaxing,” Helena groaned.

“What a surprise that it would be words that you find so appealing,” Myka chuckled seductively. She found a comfortable rhythm to rock their hips to and nibbled on the earlobe closest to her. “Helena G. Wells, you are mine. Come for me. It certainly won’t be the only time you do tonight.”

She trailed her left hand beneath Helena’s shirt skimming up her twitching stomach muscles with intent. She closed her finger tips around an already stiff nipple rolling it and tugging it. At the movement, she felt the body beneath her tense and arch dramatically. She gentled her touch skimming over skin without any intent to arouse. She moved slightly off Helena and tucked their bodies together. She listened to her racing heartbeat as it began to slow.

“I imagine you are rather proud of yourself,” Helena said breaking the silence.

“Oh yes, I am,” Myka said with a smile. “You are more beautiful than I even imagined.”

“You haven’t even gotten me out of my clothes yet, which I think we really ought to remedy. I want you naked and at my mercy.”

“Oh god, Helena.” Myka was breathless at the suggestion alone. She wasn’t entirely sure how she would survive if the woman in her arms didn’t touch her soon and make good on the unspoken promises between them.

“Don’t make me wait, Myka.”

Helena’s fingers were already working the buttons apart on her lover’s shirt. She was gentle, but clearly intent on her task. Instinctively Myka sat up, allowing the shirt to be pushed off her shoulders. Helena looked at her hungrily, but didn’t speak as she unclasped her bra and tossed the fabric away from the bed. Myka watched the inventor’s eyes as they took her in. There was such love in the gaze that she didn’t even consider attempting to cover her nudity. Instead she reached for Helena’s shirt and pulled it over her head. She had already ascertained that the woman was not wearing a bra, but being confronted with the truth of it was nearly a religious experience. She reached for Helena’s neck in search of a kiss.

“No, darling. Clothes first. I will have my skin against yours.”

The rebuff should have offended her, but Myka found the command undeniably attractive. And so, she popped her hips up and wiggled her way out of her slacks, letting her underwear go down with them. She looked up to see that Helena had divested herself of her jeans and was already moving towards her. As their skin finally, finally touched, Myka could barely remember to breathe.

“Helena,” she moaned wantonly.

“Oh, you are lovely. You are even more so than I had dared to imagine. Oh, and how you look on your back,” Helena mumbled against her skin moving to explore bare collarbones. She was not as gentle as she knew she would be later. She did love Myka, but she needed to know that she was real. She needed to feel how much the woman desired her. More than that, she needed her to understand the passion that had been brewing for years.

“Oh, please,” Myka whined while attempting to push her hips up and into Helena’s body.

“Please, what?” Helena feigned innocence. She loved the way Myka sounded saying illicit words. The woman was generally so controlled and straight laced.

“You had best touch me, before I touch myself. You must be aware that I have gotten rather good at in the last decade or so,” Myka taunted.

Helena clapped her hand over Myka’s center. “I don’t think so, Myka. This most certainly belongs to me now, doesn’t it?”

Myka shuddered at the pressure that just wasn’t quite enough and openly rutted as fingers stroked her teasingly.

“Doesn’t it,” Helena repeated.

“I... I,” Myka stuttered against the pleasure. “Only if you intend to stay,” she managed to say seeking out the dark eyes.

“There will be nothing that can keep me from you,” Helena practically growled while slipping her fingers into the wetness.

“Helena,” Myka whispered as though it were a prayer. She didn’t hold back the tears when Helena was finally inside her.

“I love you, Myka. I love you more than I could ever express.” Helena worked her fingers steadily, watching the flush grow.

“I....love....you.” Myka struggled to force the words to form, but it was so very important for Helena to hear them as came from the very depth of her soul.

“I am fortunate indeed.”

Helena kissed her deeply. There was so much that still needed to be said and done. But time seemed to finally be on their side. She focused on the feeling of her lover. The way she clung to her back and thrust in time with Helena’s movement. The way her muscles were already tightening around her fingers and the incoherent sounds spilling from her lips. The universe was righting itself after so many years slightly off kilter. She had know for sometime that Myka was the key to her own happiness. She had hoped (and dreamed) that she might be the key to Myka’s. Laying in that bed, pressed closely together Helena had gained more than she had ever imagined possible in this lifetime or that before.


End file.
